


Clockworks and Cold Steel

by Heronfem



Series: The Fire and the Fury [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Big Damn Heroes, Canon-Typical Violence, Happy Ending, Identity Issues, Intrusive Thoughts, Leonard Snart Lives, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Supernatural Elements, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8826577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: As the Waverider's crew rushes through 1927 Chicago, Time's promise comes to fruition. 
Sequel to Titan.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kickingshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickingshoes/gifts).



> Title taken from Jack White's cover of 'Love is Blindness', my favorite mourning Mick song.

First aliens, now Al Capone. 

Mick Rory's life is weird. 

He relaxes on the bridge, lets Nate yammer like the little idiot he is, plays his own role with ease. At least they're listening to him somewhat again- oh, the joys of being a hero. He has other priorities than Al Capone being mayor, but for now he'll have to play along.

He wishes he was drunk.

He and Amaya pull the partner straw, again, something he doesn't mind too much. Amaya, for all that she has no clue about modern life, is nice enough. Mick retrieves his uniform and is in the middle of buttoning it up when Amaya walks in, turning so he can see the outfit.

“What do you think?”

“I think the twenties had shit clothes,” he says, very uncomfortable in his union suit, “but since I'm not that much of an idiot, you look nice.”

Amaya actually laughs, and perches on a counter beside him, her coat gleaming under the lights. “This was the one time in which men had to wear more undergarments than women. _I'm_ excited.”

Mick makes a face, feeling a little lighter than he has in months. “They feel weird, and this suit feels even weirder than the Kronos armor.”

Amaya grins, punching his arm. “Well get used to it, because I want to go see the world.”

Mick rolls his eyes and Amaya heads out. He waits until the coast is clear to quietly say, “Gideon?”

Gideon's voice immediately responds. “Yes, Mr. Rory?”

“Prep the med bay for when I get back,” he says, putting on a watch. “I want to see if we can repair any more of the scarring, see if I can get more memories back.”

“Sir,” Gideon says, obviously uncertain, “you have put yourself under a great deal in the past few weeks. I am uncertain if there's much more that can be done to repair the brain damage done by the multiple inductions you suffered. We are in uncharted medical territory. None of the Hunters were ever repaired following induction.”

Mick sighs, running a hand over his head before putting the ugly hat on. “Look through the files of Rolan Ouranos, Operation: Titan. Under it should be at least 40 different people, and each one will have details of what was done. Maybe you can reverse engineer it.”

“Very well, Kronos.”

His lips twitch in a bit of a smile. “Thanks, Gideon. We'll be back soon, don't let Sara worry too much.”

“Do I ever?” Gideon drawls, and Mick leaves the room.

oOo

Ness lies still in the med bay, Gideon doing her best with him, and Mick listens to the others yammer on.

“If Gideon can repair brain damage,” Nate's saying, “why hasn't she done it to Rory?”

Mick takes the opportunity to step around the door, looking him dead in the eyes. “She has, you moron,” he snaps, as the others go dead silent. “I was forced into electroshock therapy as a kid. I had my memories erased or damaged multiple times, I'm only just starting to get back most of my teens. And it says a lot about you that you think brain damage is a joke.”

Nate goes ashen, and the silence in the room goes taut with tension as Mick steps up in his space.

“I've lived thousands of your lives,” he says, and Kronos thrashes in his cage, just beneath the surface. “I've seen nightmares you could never dream of. I've killed more people than you've had hot dinners, you insolent little puppy, and I survived torture at the hands of a man who turned me into his pet and his toy, the man who raped women and killed them for their children. You're just a 25 year old little shitstain of a human who happens to have a college education and the luck of turning into metal. You are _nothing_ more than a bully and a kid playing dress up in adults clothes. I've met murderers with more empathy than you.” He steps back, barely holding onto his temper. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”

Nate flees without a second thought, and Mick closes his eyes.

_Come_ , he thinks, and Kronos opens his eyes.

“Show me the scans,” Kronos says, and the others take a large step back as Gideon flickers them on so he can see. He looks them over with quiet deliberation, and taps a couple areas of damage. “Focus the attention here, and here. Pull up Operation: Titan, file number 8835.” 

Gideon throws a scan up, a picture of Oceanus without his armor, lying still on the torture table. Kronos pulls up his scans, examining them in comparison to Ness's.

“Oceanus nearly drowned a few times,” he says absently. “Suffered a lot of damage. Follow the protocols set in place by Godfrey v.2, focusing on movement and connection first.”

“Yes, Kronos,” Gideon says, and the rays switch a few times to familiar beams. “Further orders?”

“No hot water to Nate Heywood's showers for a week,” he says, a small twist of petty revenge. “In _any_ attempt to shower.”

Gideon sounds downright gleeful as she says, “Yes, Kronos,” and sets to work. Kronos flicks the scans closed, and blinks.

Mick smiles to himself, feeling very soothed, and turns to the others. Sara looks spooked, Ray looks outright scared, and Amaya simply raises an eyebrow.

“Now,” Mick says with a lazy smile, “if there's on thing I learned from Snart, it's that the devil's in the details. Ness and the IRS took down Capone with a single ledger, and since Capone seems to know we're here, he'll have moved it to a better spot. We find it, we steal it, we put it in the original spot, and then let Ness take it down. And then we go beat up Darhk for ruining my day with this shit.”

Sara nods, looking a little surprised. “You know a lot about Capone.”

Mick snorts. “I'm a career criminal. So far as we're concerned, Capone is the fairy tale you tell the baby thieves so they don't get caught.” He adjusts his gloves, wincing a little as essence of Kronos settle back down, relaxing into the cage and sleeping again. “I had a friend of a friend whose fathers aunt was the actual accountant for Capone. She stayed out of the way, so she's probably go the ledger.”

“Your friend of a friend's fathers aunt?” Ray asks, blinking.

“Len's friend Hartley's father's aunt,” Mick says, sighing. “All those brains went to his head but he comes from a long line of criminals. Good pedigree for white collar crime.”

“I don't even want to know,” Sara says blankly. “All right, what first?”

Mick smiles.

oOo

The Vanishing Point is chaotic, people running this way and that. Crews skitter along like bugs, all but throwing themselves out of the way as Kronos marches down the hall. The Acheron appears from the shadows, joining him as he strides towards the Council chambers. She has blood on her hands, and a thoughtful expression. Small, slender, with a heart shaped face and a buzz cut, she's the Time Master's second favorite after the Pilgrim. The Acheron handles memories, and is deadly efficient. She and Kronos get on well.

“What is it?” Kronos asks, veering left to avoid a page running down the hallway with a tablet in hand.

“Something odd,” the Acheron says, and hands him a clear sheet. He glances at it, dodging yet another page. 

“All fifty?” he demands, looking up.

“All,” she confirms. “No trial. Vrohain slaughtered them himself. The ship has been commandeered and placed in a bay. D'vrain will be taking it. Vekal Shaumai is calling for a meeting of the Hunters, to see if something can be done.”

“You're not a Hunter,” Kronos says, handing back the sheet. “Why are you talking to me about this?”

The Acheron pulls him aside, into a little alcove with the stars shining above them. “Doesn't this seem odd?” she asks, her voice soft. “You've been sent out on mission after mission following leads and all of those bounties get sent directly to Vrohain's chambers. No one else.”

“And?” He demands.

“And every single one of your bounties is killed. All of them. None of them survive, they're just wiped out instead. No prison for them, even though Vekal's all go to prison. You get sent after the old Time Masters, and he destroys them. Kronos, Rhea's been added to the list of bounties.” 

The air leaves his lungs. “No,” he says shortly.

“Yes,” she says, and her eyes flash with regret. “I am sorry, Kronos. Her son, Theus-”

“Don't,” he hisses, and they fall silent as a trio of Time Masters walk down the hall, talking among themselves. When the coast is clear he turns back to her.

She bites her lip, and nods shortly. “I will see what can be done. You and I are but puppets on long strings, but perhaps something can be done soon.” The Acheron blinks, her eyes glowing violent green.

The world falls away, the stars fall down, and Time surges up to take shape from the Acheron. Kronos catches his breath as star fire envelops him whole.

_**SOON** _

oOo

Chicago smells, and Mick puts a cigar in his mouth, flicking his lighter on and feeling it catch. It's early morning, the city waking up and scurrying about. Sara makes a face but Amaya doesn't even twitch, just reaches into her coat and takes out a pack of cigarettes and lets Mick light it for her. Nate immediately starts yammering about health, and rather than listening Mick breathes out smoke directly in his face and saunters forward. Jax and Stein are watching over Ness, and Nate is only there for bait.

“Fuckin' Chicago,” he mutters, strolling down the street and listening in to the beat of the city. There's a mugging happening to some reporter type in an alley, there's the lingering smell of gun smoke from a building, and businessmen chat with thieves as they pass. Sara's talking to Ray about something to do with H.H. Holmes, and Mick takes another slow drag on his cigar before grabbing the hand of the kid who tries to brush past him.

“Try harder next time,” he tells the kid, plucking Ray and Nate's wallets from his hand and taking another five off of him. The kids eyes go wide. He's a scrawny little thing, maybe 14 at the most but starvation thin and ratty haired. He's the kind of pretty that used to get Len into a lot of trouble in juvie, and has the kind of hands that look calloused from safe cracking. He might as well be a young Len.

“You family, mister?” The kid asks, tugging uselessly. Mick smiles humorlessly.

“Worse.” He drags the kid off to the side, flipping open Ray's wallet and pulling out a couple dollars. The kid watches him with narrowed eyes, and Sara waves off the others as they try to walk forward. “You got a crew?”

“What's in it for me?” The kid asks, suspicious.

“Money, good food, hotel beds, not having to screw,” Mick drawls, and the kid straightens up.

“Not a nancy,” the boy snaps.

Mick snorts. “Me neither, but I know what that shit looks like, c'mon kid.”

The kid looks him over for a minute, eyes narrowed, then relaxes. “Name's Warren, mister, not _kid_.”

“Mick Rory,” Mick says, and lets his hand go. Warren crosses his arms over a stick thin chest. “Need you to look for some people. How big's your crew?”

Warren grins at him, wicked. “How many y'need, Mister Rory?”

“Least six. Ten'd be better.”

Warren nods. “I can get ten. What we looking for?”

“Two men,” Mick says, opening up his own wallet and pulling out a couple gold coins that make Warren's eyes go wide. “One's all white blonde, round face. Likes torture, likes murder, don't get close to him. He'll be near Capone, probably. Blue eyes, really blue I mean. Moves slow most of the time, very deliberate, but he's fast. Got it?” Warren repeated it back. “Right. Other guy, he's about as tall as me. Skinny, short hair gone gray, got a widows peak in front. Probably wearing black or blue, he's mixed but he looks white. Green eyes, little mole up top.” Mick tapped his temple. “Dunno if he'll be with a crew or running on his own. Just keep an eye out.”

“Got it.” The kid takes two dollars, looking him over cautiously. “And there's more?”

“Lot more.” Mick glances up and around the street. “I take care of my crew, end of story. I'll get you a place.”

“Done,” Warren says. “Where's the drop?”

“Side entrance of union station,” Mick says. “9 at night.”

Warren gives him a lazy salute and darts away into the crowd. Mick watches him go, and the others walk up.

“Why'd you give him Snart's description too?” Ray asks, looking a little like he's been gut punched. Mick straightens up, brushing down his coat.

“Better to have two things to keep your attention,” he says. “And if they get caught, they can tell Darhk they were looking for Snart, not him. Amaya's with me, we're going to steal a car and visit Aunt Gladys.”

He turns to move down the street, and there's Len, leaning against the wall. He looks just as he did before he died, down to the smile on his face and the ring on his finger, the same ring on a chain under Mick's shirt. Mick freezes, the air gone from his lungs. Len winks at him, saluting lazily, and vanishes.

_Soon_ , Time whispers in his ear, and he shivers.

“Mick?” Amaya asks, and he shakes his head.

“Let's go.”

oOo

“Who's Vrohain?” Amaya asks, watching him. Mick feels his hands tighten on the wheel of their recently stolen car and takes a moment to breathe.

“Where'd you hear that name?”

“You talk in your sleep sometimes,” Amaya says, looking out the window of the car. “You speak of him a great deal, and last night you seemed very upset when I heard you. You slept on the couch.”

Mick's hands flex on the wheel and he takes a slow, careful breath. “Not important.”

“It certainly seems like it.”

Mick wants to claw something, but he has a road to stay on, so he simply grits his teeth for a moment. Amaya will bother him with it constantly if he doesn't tell her. “Vrohain was the chief justice of the Time Masters. Judge, jury, executioner. Not a nice guy.” He takes his turn sharper than needed, making her grab the door for support. “Nasty fucker. Most of the Time Masters were fucked up in their own ways, that whole power corrupts thing. He took it to a new level.”

“It sounds like you hate him.”

Mick laughs shortly. “Yeah. That's one way to put it.”

They pull up to the curb and Mick climbs out, sighing as he looks the place over. The house is plain, with clapboard shutters and an ugly little houseplant sitting on the stoop. He slams the door shut and stalks up the sidewalk, Amaya following. The door's unlocked, and he walks in to see the corpse sitting on the couch, freshly dead by about four hours. Her eyes look sightlessly up, and he sighs. The place is trashed, every cabinet overturned, papers scattered everywhere. Bullet holes riddle the walls, but it's the hole in her chest that did her in. Mick frowns, looking at the long incision. It's almost like the width of a hand.

“Why would they kill her?” Amaya asks, looking around at the carnage.

Mick's mouth tightens. “She was too loyal,” he says, picking up a couple papers. There are endless sums on them, strings of numbers chasing each other around the page. “If someone who wasn't Capone came, she wouldn't have given it up without a fight.”

Amaya walks over and gently shuts her eyes, brushing a curl of hair out of the woman's face. 

_Rhea, built like a brick, smiling, holding a child and showing him- “Look, Kronos, we could have a son, what beautiful eyes-” the child peeking around her leg as she stands there in a chiton, hidden away in a forest, time pirates dead at her doorstep- “Kronos, no, please! He's my son-” and a stone, disguised with tech to show a child where none was- Rhea, dead at 65, Theus crackling with the lightning batons, lunging forward with inhuman speed-_

“We should go,” he says bluntly, the taste of blood in his mouth. The woman's silver hair gleams in the late light of the day.

They go.

Len waits for him, leaning against the door of the car, smile on.

“It's good to see you like this,” he says, stepping back so Mick can get in. Suddenly Len's sitting in the back, looking at Amaya with interest as she closes her door. “I like her. She's a good friend. Quite pretty, too. Just look at those eyes.”

Mick fixes his eyes on the road, and narrowly avoids gritting his teeth.

“Aren't you glad to see me?” Len asks, and ice cold hands reach around the seat to clutch the ring over his heart. It burns against his skin, brutally cold, and Mick swears violently. Amaya grabs the door as he pulls off the side of the road and grabs the chain, yanking it from under his shirt. Frost comes off the ring, the metal white cold.

“What is that?” Amaya demands, and then whips her head around to stare directly at Len. “Who is that?!”

“She can see me too,” Len says, cheerful. “Is that like with cats, I suppose? Cats can see me, and that necklace of hers is a very interesting thing indeed.”

“You're not here,” Mick grits out. “You're _not here_ , not now, not yet.”

Len's ice cold hands, cold as a corpse, reach over and take his hand, squeezing once in a mockery of reassurance. “I'm sorry, Mick. I couldn't cut all the strings after all, and I need this back.” 

“No,” Mick manages to get out before the ring and its chain are yanked from his neck. There's the faintest hint of ice against his cheek, like the memory of a kiss, and Len is gone.

“What the hell just happened,” Amaya chokes out, and Mick promptly passes out.

oOo

He dreams the light and stars of Time again, and looks up at the being that Time takes the shape of.

“You said this was a gift!” he shouts, anger and sadness curling tight in his throat. “That's not him, it's not right. What did you do to him?”

Time bends, and he closes his eyes as the words wash over him in waves of light and sound, a barrage that might as well have been sonic screams inside his mind. 

_The strings still hold him_

His eyes open again and he looks up into the deep green pits that are meant to be eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

_They hold him in the darkness, have what makes him whole_

Mick hates riddles. He grinds his teeth, forcing himself to calm down.

“Explain.”

Time thrashes, frustrated and angry. Mick knows the feeling.

_I shall not fear the Legion, though they set themselves against me_

“Darhk's got him,” he says, feeling the first sparks of rage.

Time swells, roars, surrounds him with fire until all his being is just fire, filled and twisting and churning flames with time wrapping around him like a snake. He feels like Death and Life given form, mind churning with the overload of sensation. Time's green eyes burn into him, and he burns back.

He knows what he has to do.

oOo

He wakes up to the inside of the Waverider strapped down in a familiar chair, and immediately rolls to the side to heave out what little food he'd eaten that day. A hand gingerly pats his back, and Mick whines in pain as Gideon slams a mild sedative into his bloodstream.

“You fainted,” Amaya says from beside him, hurrying to undo the straps, and Mick all but launches himself out of the chair, shaking like a leaf.

“Never do that again,” he rasps, and collapses on the floor heaving again. He's sick twice again, and can barely move when he rasps out,“Never, ever fucking strap me down.”

Firm hands help him up, and he sways into Jax. Jax helps him to a proper chair, shoving a glass of water into his hand.

“We came and picked you up,” Jax says, squeezing his shoulder. “You were a wreck, man. Gideon checked you out, fixed you up. You okay now?”

Mick grimaced at him. “Gonna have nightmares for the next few weeks, but I'm just peachy. Gideon, override 8993560.”

“Yes, Kronos,” Gideon says crisply.

Jax raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“I'm now only allowed to be strapped down if I'm having heart failure or infected with something real damn nasty,” Mick says, swishing the water around and spitting it out. Gideon has already whisked away the vomit, and the water quickly follows. “Fuck me, PTSD is shit. The ledger wasn't there, it's probably down at the docks with Capone himself.” He levers himself out of his chair. Where's the star-spangled jackass and the boy scout?”

“I'll get them,” Jax says, and darts off. 

Amaya watches him go and then crosses her arms. 

“Did you tell them?” Mick asks.

“No,” she says. “What was that?”

“My partner,” he says, and her face blanks.

“Your partner,” she says slowly. “Your very dead, died to save you all, sacrificed in a place where time does not exist partner?”

“That's the one.” He shudders and takes another drink. “Long story. C'mon, let's get to the Station and get the information off the kid. I've got a bone to pick with Damien Darhk.”

She grabs his arm, lips going tight with anger. “Explain,” she snaps. “I kept this quiet because of how you acted, what on Earth was the matter? He was a ghost, and he took that ring for a reason. And he kissed you. Was he your lover?”

Mick jerks away from her, barely reining in his desire to either attack or run. “He was my partner. He just... he just _was_. The ring was his, he put it on me before he died. I knew he was coming back, but I didn't know when or how, and it turned out wrong.”

“How did you know?” Amaya demands.

Mick grabs his head as he tries to stay in control, rage and the desire to maim swamping him. Gideon intercedes.

“Ms. Jiwe, I will request that you cease this line of questioning,” her cool voice says. “Mr. Rory still suffers from extreme mental illness and you are aggravating the root of some trauma he has suffered. Please stand down and leave so that I may help.”

“I'm sorry,” Amaya says, quiet and uncertain, and leaves.

Mick collapses against the wall, barely holding himself up. “Lock the door,” he rasps, and the med bay doors snap closed. 

“Which procedure, Mr. Rory?”

“Sedatives,” he says, “force my heart rate lower, make me calm down.”

“Yes, Mr. Rory,” Gideon says, and Mick walks over to have the liquid shot into him. He leans against the wall, the soothing metal cool against his skin. He closes his eyes, feels it easing its way through him. His heart begins to slow again, his breathing going from ragged to normal once more, and he slowly slides down to curl against the wall. He feels inexplicably homesick, and rests his head on his knees.

“You know what I miss?” He says to the room at large. “I miss Gaia. I miss Rhea. I miss Len and Lisa, I miss Boo and even Hartley and Axel, and I miss getting burgers at 3 in the morning with a crew, and I miss stealing things and feeling alive. I miss being happy.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Rory,” Gideon says, and one of the mechanical arms of the med bay reaches down to awkwardly pat his head. It's more comforting than it has any right to be, and Mick breathes, forcing himself to stand.

No more weaknesses, not right now.

oOo

Warren's waiting for them at the station, and hands him the address Mick already suspected. He sighs, hands over a wad of cash and a hotel key, and the kid casually salutes him before vanishing into the crowd.

He fumbles his lighter out and flicks it open, staring into the flame to calm down a little more before flicking it shut and walking over to the crew brought for the job. “Dock 39, same as before. Really likes that shithole. Alright, Bonnie, let's got get a truck.”

Amaya makes a face at him while Sara laughs, but climbs into their stolen car anyway. Nate and Ray both sit meekly in the back, Sara sitting between them. Amaya shoots a narrow eyed look at both of them before returning her eyes to the road.

“Ah,” Mick says with a very pleased smile, “my life is so much better with you two being quiet.”

Amaya snorts, but she's smiling, and they rumble down the road without issue.

The theft of the truck goes off without a hitch, and Mick feels Kronos stretch inside his cage. The familiar bubble of rage and bloodlust is curling up inside him, and he grips the wheel tighter.

“Tell me of the time you met,” Amaya says quietly.

“Hmm?”

She nods at the wheel, and he breathes out, relaxing his grip. “Right. I was in for suspected murder, in juvie.”

“What is that?”

“Right, juvenile detention. Prison for kids,” Mick says, carefully taking a turn. Power steering didn't seem like it'd come into style yet. “Len took the fall from his shit father for a job gone wrong. He was a kid, still just a skinny little scrap of bones and spite. Had a mouth on him that got him in trouble about four hours into being in. I was the crazy kid that everyone avoided. I'd take people down no matter how old they were. Someone came at him with a shiv-”

“Shiv?” Amaya interrupts.

“A homemade weapon. This one was a sharpened toothbrush. Sliced his side, but I got it away and stabbed the guy back with it. Went a little wild, dunno quite what happened after that.” He shrugs. “I was made to be a thug, Len was always the brains. And a determined little shit. He wouldn't let me kick him off, he just came back and kept bothering me and finally stole me a lighter. That cinched it. We've been together since then, for better or worse. Fucked it up a couple times, went our separate ways a few times.” Mick goes quiet, feels his heart tug. “But we always wound up back together. Couldn't keep us apart for long.”

“Tell me about him,” she says, eyes fixed out of the window.

Mick breathes, feels his throat going tight. “You'd never see him without long pants and long sleeves. He slept in silks, liked waking up to a nice dark roast. Hated pot roast, had a shit dad, loved his sister more than anything in the world. Killed his dad with one shot, put ice right through his heart, and I made him a cake when he broke out. Hated velvet, loved cashmere, sprawled all the fuck over the place, had texture issues like crazy. Getting him to eat new things was hard, getting him to eat vegetables that weren't fried was even harder, and he got in more than one fight with a soccer mom in the store over the best kind of peanut butter. Designed houses for fun, sold a couple designs. Liked kilts and skirts, wore them when he felt safe on the Waverider, but only over pants so people couldn't see the scars.” He swallows hard, blinking a couple times. “Got me to the shrink after I almost died the first time. Fed the stray cats when he thought I didn't see, brought them in the house in winter and didn't care that I saw. Little fucker knew I was allergic, but he wouldn't give up on them.”

Sara sniffles suspiciously, and Ray clears his throat a couple times.

“So, yeah.” He rubs a hand over his face, the glove scrubbing his skin. “That was Len. And this is us.”

He pulls up to the guards, and attacks with a great deal of pleasure. 

The first set go down easy, but as soon as he looks up, there's Capone.

“Of fucking course,” he growls. Nate takes point, Ray joining him.

“We'll get this,” Sara says. “Amaya, you're with Mick. Find the ledger, and if you find Darhk, _run_.”

The guns rattle out bullets and the pair of them run into the buildings.

“We spend far too much time in warehouses,” Amaya mutters, and vaults over a crate to take down a man coming forward.

“Smooth,” Mick says, and ducks into the ugly little office, taking in the set up. The safe in the corner is the obvious set up, and he barely spares it a glance before going to the desk and running his fingers over the smooth surfaces and under the edges. He finds the little lever without much difficulty, and pushes it in. A section of the desk pops up, and he pulls the ledger out, flipping through it to be sure. “This is it.”

He hands it to Amaya, who whistles softly. “That was quick.”

“I'm not just the hired muscle,” he says with a smirk. “Take it and go.”

“Mick-”

He shoves her, gently. “ _Go_. I gotta know.”

She glares, straightening up. “Then I should go with you as back up.”

There's a chuckle from the corner, and both of them jerk as Damien Darhk melts out of the shadows. He smiles, eyes crinkling up in the corners. 

“Go,” Mick snaps, and Amaya runs, the blue light of a cheetah flashing around her as she disappears. Mick's hand tightens on his gun.

Darhk cocks his head, still smiling that infuriating little smile. “She's quite pretty, that one. Too much of a hero for you, I would think. Besides, I think that we have something better in mind for you. Unless you didn't come to get your partner back?”

“Where is he?” Mick snarls, and Darhk's smile widens.

“My associate will take you to him.”

Mick turns, and all he sees is a blur of yellow before things go dark.

oOo

He comes to laying on the ground in what looks to be a barn, perhaps twenty feet away from where Len is bound in a cage made of iron. It swings back and forth from a chain, and Len rages as the man in yellow walks forward and stops in front of him.

“Len,” Mick says softly, and the speedster laughs. Len struggles against the bands holding him, jerking and snarling as he slams against his fists helplessly against the banding. 

“I have to say, I was surprised to see him,” the speedster says, stepping forward to crouch down in front of Mick. “And yet here we are, with you in front of us. We know all about you two. You want your partner to keep his miraculous life, you'd better come quietly. We have use for a man of your talents, after all. You can't tell me you _like_ being caged up in the little ship, running around with the do-gooders. A man like you is meant for better things.” He looks over his shoulder at Len, and smiles. “Besides, Mr. Rory, look at him. Do you want him to stay all alone? Clearly he misses you.” He pulls out the ring and its chain from under his costume, as well as a bottle of something silver on its own chain. “When the Vanishing Point exploded, everything rattled out through the universe. I caught a piece of him in the Speed Force, and then something curious happened. Suddenly, there he was a few days ago... and attached to me. My own precious puppet. And I want you, too.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. “The perfect opposites, fighting together again by my side. What do you say?”

“Mick, don't!” Len begs, tearing at the iron the binds him.

Mick looks up, looking the speedster in the eyes.

“What's your name,” he asks.

“Eobard Thawne,” the speedster says with a cheerful smile. 

Mick smiles back. “Well, Eobard Thawne, here's my answer.” He spit blood onto Eobard's face, watching him recoil with vicious satisfaction. “Go fuck yourself.”

Eobard flicked the bloody spit off his face with a look of disappointment. “I thought you might say that.” He straightens with a sigh, looking back at Len. “Keep your eyes open, Snart, I want you to see this.”

Mick tries to scramble upright, but with a flash of yellow light he's thrown back onto his stomach. He looks up to see Eobard holding a massive, nasty looking smiths hammer.

“Nothing personal, Rory,” Eobard says with a cold smile. “But I have to keep him in line, and you're all he's got to fight for right now.”

The hammer comes down.

Later, he knows he blacked out. He has to have. But the first burst of pain is so brutal that he feels the echoes of it for the rest of his life, through all of his nightmares.

He wakes to the sound of Len screaming, spitting curses and desperate fury. His ears are ringing faintly, and he groggily turns his head to see that Eobard is standing in front of Len's cage, undoing the locks on the bands one by one. As soon as they open Len breaks out, and goes straight through Eobard. He's yelling again, and Mick blinks sleepily as Eobard laughs. He feels odd, like he's becoming weightless. Len turns and runs to him, and reaches a hand straight through him.

“No,” he can hear more distinctly, though it's still like listening through water. “No, no, no, please-”

Mick closes his eyes, exhausted, and slowly opens them again when Len yells his name.

“M'right here,” he slurs, and tries to sit up. Nothing happens. He moves his arm, tries to lever himself up, and then he turns. Blood slicks the straw and dirt, pooling under his hips. Agony, muted from the adrenaline, ricochets up what's left of his spine and he collapses back onto the ground, head ringing with the implications of what's just been done to him. He can see the hammer sitting not far from him, sees the blood and the bone chips on it.

His spine is broken, and he's bleeding out.

He looks back up at Len, who's trying so hard to reach out for him and just keeps going through him. Eobard strolls over, and Mick can't hold back a snarl when he sees that Eobard's holding the ring on its chain. He kicks Mick's side, and Mick screams as the agony shoots through him as he's rolled onto his destroyed back, Len screaming counterpart and launching himself at Eobard, who doesn't seem to notice. He drops the ring carelessly, and it falls to rest on Mick's chest. Len's ice cold hands are suddenly on him, and the world snaps back into definition.

“Mick, Mick, please, you've gotta hold on,” Len's saying, and his hands are shaking. “Mick, _please_ , just hold on, the others have to come.”

He reaches up through the pain, grabbing Len's arm. “Len,” he breathes, throat catching. “I'm sorry.”

“What?” Len grabs his hand, holding it close. It's like being held by an icicle, and Mick doesn't care. His mind is already overloaded with pain, but Len is here, right at his side, cold knees pressed up against his rib cage. “No, no no, you didn't do anything wrong.”

Mick shakes his head, and reaches up to touch Len's cheek. “Was gonna be here for you, when you came back. Time brought you back for me. A gift.”

“What?” Len asks, baffled. “What are you talking about?”

Mick smiles, wanting to reassure him. Blood smears as he smooths his thumb over Len's cheek. “It's okay,” he said, his voice breaking. “It'll be okay. The team'll get you back.”

“No,” Len says, eyes going wide, “no, no, you don't get to leave me here like this, Mick! Turn about is not fair play, you don't get to die on me when I just got back.”

He's so tired, and he lets his head loll back against the ground. “It'll be okay,” he repeats, and his hand falls from Len's cheek to thump onto the ground.

The world fades away into darkness, and he breathes out.

oOo

It takes little time for the pinpricks of light to appear, for the galaxies to form and the stars to collide, for the heat and the fire and the majesty of space to coalesce around him. He's standing now, staring out into the cosmos. The darkness between the stars seems broader now, the stars themselves a little dimmer. It is a grand and wondrous thing, terrible to behold.

Time waits behind him.

“So that's it,” he says, addressing the emptiness. “That's how I die. My back broken, in the dirt and the straw of a barn, holding onto the ghost of the only person I ever really loved. And it wasn't even for anything. No fire, no fight. Just a lesson to be taught.”

The universe is silent, stars spinning in their endless orbit. He turns, looking up at the fiery brilliance of Time. The great green eyes stare back, silent and without judgment.

“Is this it?” he asks. “You and me, together? The last child of Time, watching infinity pass?”

Time wraps him in its coils, and lifts him up to its parody of a face. The green eyes gaze into him, and a monstrous hand reaches up to gently wipe away tears he didn't even realize were there.

_a gift_

He closes his eyes, bitter disappointment curling in his chest. “A short lived one.”

_a gift_

_a gift_

_a final gift_

_for my son_

_my son_

_my most beloved son_

He opens his eyes, and Time swallows him whole. The stars burn into his chest, the fire engulfs him and sears into his bones and his flesh. Worlds and civilizations batter his mind, and Time, eternal Time, presses hard into his skin until he screams with the power. He breathes, and millennium drag from his lungs. The tides are his blood, the revolutions his heart, and all the life that ever was flourished and devoured him until all that was left was-

Him.

Whole.

Staring up at the great empty heat of Time, its green eyes staring down at him.

_Fare well_

oOo

His eyes open, and he knows. It takes an age to look up at Len, who's still looking down. He feels it all, every heartbeat of a mouse, every tremor of the earth below, every breath taken by every person on the planet. He blazes with the fires of life, and _knows_.

“Don't move,” Len says, his hands shaking. “Don't move, don't make it worse-”

Mick reaches up, touches his cheek with hands born of flames, and pulls him down to kiss him.

It takes little effort to pull Time around him, to slow the world even as Eobard's eyes widen at the sight. He pours the fires of stars into his partner, the wild heat of creation and the cold wonder of space, lets the heat sink through and bring life where there was only a shadow. Time unravels around his body, bones shifting back into place, blood sucking up from the ground, skin healing and scars replacing broken skin.

The once frozen hand that held his grew warm, and Mick opened his eyes with a smile of pure victory as Len stared down at him, eyes wild and awed.

“I missed you,” he says, and Len drags him up by his shirt to cling to him. Mick clutches him back, feeling the last vestiges of time seep out of his system.

There's the rustle of movement and Eobard is gone, the now empty bottle that once held Len captive shattering on the floor, but Mick doesn't care at this point.

“Help me up,” he says, and Len helps lever him to his feet. He's just gotten his balance back when Len grabs his face and pulls him in for another kiss.

This, Mick thinks as he wraps his arms around his partner, he could get used to.


End file.
